


The Terminal (A Bar Is Not A Home)

by wingsoflace



Category: Cheers (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Series Finale, because obviously the finale didn't cause enough pain on its own...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27250429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsoflace/pseuds/wingsoflace
Summary: When Sam leaves the airport Diane makes a phone call to Cheers.
Relationships: Diane Chambers/Sam Malone
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	The Terminal (A Bar Is Not A Home)

He’d held her hand tightly as they’d left the plane and returned to the terminal, but neither had said a word since arriving at their shared realization.

_ You know… _

_ Yes. I think we both know. _

It wasn’t going to work. They weren’t going to work. Maybe they’d simply missed the boat six years ago. Maybe that was just as well because it was possible that the boat had always had a leak – a minor one, that could have been dealt with for a while and been patched up occasionally, but that would have eventually overwhelmed the vessel, no matter how fast they emptied buckets of water overboard. They’d never really know.

The other frustrated passengers spilled out into the terminal, some disappearing in search of refreshment, others in search of a seat in the expectation of a long delay. A few simply milled about as Sam and Diane came to a stop. She turned to face him, stepping forward so that they were standing toe to toe. They’d been here so many times before: her arms around his waist, his hands resting on her shoulder blades.

“Any chance I’ll see you in six months?” There was an almost imperceptible waver in her voice as she looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and shining.

He just smiled and squeezed her shoulders gently before glancing up at the departure board. “You’d better win some more awards out there,” he said.

Raising her eyebrows, she drew back from him – slightly, not far enough to break the embrace. “And why is that?” she challenged, bracing herself for an impending attack on her talent.

He grinned at her defensiveness, a twinkle in his eyes. “Well why else would I send you another telegram?”

Her expression immediately softened, eyes crinkling. There were a few more lines there now than there had been six years ago and the same was true for him. But for both of them it was almost as if no time had passed at all. How quickly they’d fallen back into familiar ways. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Okay?” he asked gently, his eyes searching hers for one final confirmation that they were doing the right thing.

“Okay.” It was almost a whisper.

Nodding, he took a deep breath and held it for a moment, as if he had something more to say and was searching for the right words. But nothing came and he let it go, exhaling resolutely. Then, with a hand under her chin, he tilted her face up to his and kissed her softly before wrapping his arms around her. The hug was fierce but brief, lasting just long enough for him to murmur ‘bye Diane’ into her hair. It was quiet enough that he doubted she’d heard him. Hoped she hadn’t. And then he was gone.

She watched him saunter away, bag slung over his shoulder, until he was lost to the crowd. Cheers would be his destination; she was sure of it. What he’d said before they’d left had surprised her and, even though everyone at the bar would have denied it, he may well have been right. They spent most of their waking lives in that place, but it wasn’t their home – not really. For when they left there every night they each had somewhere else,  _ someone _ else, to go back to. But even though he was their leader – the one they looked to, the captain of their team – the same could not be said for Sam. Sure, he could probably find someone to spend the night with, so he needn’t be alone if he chose not to be. There would be breakfast in the morning and the promise of a call that he’d make only if he happened to find himself with an empty bed. That was hardly the same. The bar was his home and it was there that he’d found his family. Built his family. She should never have asked him to leave.

Diane looked around for the nearest payphone. It would be best to call and make sure that someone would be there when he got back. She hated the thought of him alone in the darkened bar.

*****

The atmosphere at Cheers had been decidedly uncomfortable ever since Sam and Diane had left for the airport. Carla had been sullen with everyone, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but her insults had lacked their customary vigor. Woody had said that he was going to organize the drinks cases, but he’d been in the storeroom for an unreasonably long time. Frasier had been staring at whatever glass was in front of him, obviously ruminating on something, and no one had dared to disturb him. Cliff had even declined to explain the nuances of a story he’d read in the paper that morning, sharing only the highlights. Nobody had mentioned Sam’s departing words and Norm sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to do it.

When the phone rang Carla answered it with a barked ‘Cheers’. She listened to the caller for only a few seconds before dropping the receiver on the counter in front of Norm and stalking over to the other side of the bar. A female voice was just about audible through the handset and he looked at it suspiciously before glancing across at Cliff. The mailman just shrugged. With a sigh Norm picked up the phone and slowly raised it to his ear, hoping against hope that it wasn’t Vera. He wasn’t exactly enjoying himself, but in no way did that mean he wanted to go home.

“Hello?” he said carefully.

“Norman?” came the response. “It’s Diane.”

“Diane?” That caused Cliff to look over, eyebrows raised; Norm shrugged in reply. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”

“Yes, I am – it’s been delayed, but that’s not why I’m calling.” She cleared her throat. “Sam’s not coming to LA.”

“Oh.” The silence teetered on the edge of uncomfortable before Norm offered a prompt. “And you’re…”

“Yes, I’ll still be going,” she said briskly. “I just want to make sure that someone will still be at the bar when he gets back, given what happened earlier.”

Norm laughed, as if the very idea of not being at the bar was ridiculous. “Yeah, I’m sure someone will be here.”

“I don’t mean just Carla,” Diane pressed. “I doubt it’ll be safe to leave her alone with him for at least a week.”

“We’ll be here, with restraints if necessary. But Diane-”

She cut him off. “You know he didn’t mean it don’t you? What he said about you and the others.”

“I know, but-”

“Will you tell them? That he didn’t mean it?” He could hear an anxious note in her voice.

“Okay,” he replied. They both knew that he probably wouldn’t.

“Cheers is his home, Norm,” she continued softly, “and you’re all his family. He loves that bar and I doubt that he could give it up – for anything.” The last two words were barely a whisper, almost as if she didn’t quite mean for Norm to hear them.

He sighed, eyeing the other guys at the bar, but none of them showed any interest in the conversation. Most importantly, Carla was out of earshot. “Look Diane,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry about earlier-”

“Norm-”

“No, really,” he insisted hastily, almost running the words into each other in an attempt to stave off another interruption that would further prolong his apology. “I think I’m speaking for at least some of the guys when I say that we were just worried about Sam getting hurt again. We didn’t want to go through a repeat of last time, that’s for sure.”

“What do you mean?” she asked slowly.

He’d realized his mistake as soon as he’d said it, but hadn’t been quick enough to cover himself. And now the lingering pause would certainly have aroused her suspicion. “Oh, nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Norman…”

He’d witnessed enough of her inquisitions over the years to know from her tone that she would not let this go. “Sam didn’t tell you what he did after you left?” he asked anyway, desperate to avoid the conversation.

“No.” The voice coming down the line sounded small.

Norm wiped a hand across his brow. He wished Coach were there; he’d somehow always known how to talk to her. “Diane…” He really hadn’t meant to get this involved. “He sold the bar.”

“He… sold… the bar,” she repeated awkwardly.

“Mmm-hmm,” Norm replied, buoyed by her seemingly level response. “To some big corporation. Used the money to buy a boat and sail around the world. Got as far as the Caribbean, I think.”

“What ha-” her voice cracked and he realized that maybe this wasn’t going as well as he’d thought. “What happened?” She sniffed. He could spare her the details.

“Erm, it’s a long story. But he came back, obviously. And…” He struggled to condense the last few years into something generic and inconspicuous. “And he managed to get Cheers back too.”

Diane didn’t seem to mind his feeble explanation, which was enough for Norm to know that something wasn’t right. “Oh,” she said with forced brightness, “that’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Did he say… anything?” The ‘about me’ was unspoken but it hung loudly between them.

“No, he didn’t. He just… went.” Which was almost the truth. Sam’s departure had been unexpected. Norm had arrived at the bar one day to find him packing some things from his filing cabinet into a bag. As he’d been about to walk out the door he’d informed them that he’d sold the bar and that Carla was to be in charge until the new manager showed up. They’d all laughed until he’d taken out the contract. He was going to buy a boat and see the world, he’d told them. When Frasier had asked why on earth he would do such a thing he’d looked around the bar before gazing back towards the office. ‘I just can’t  _ be _ here anymore,’ he’d said. Thinking back, Norm considered that he might actually have been looking at the spot at the corner of the bar where Diane had so often sat to read. None of them had noticed at the time, but Sam had looked tired – weary – as if he’d been carrying an unbearable weight for too long.

“Well,” Diane said. “I’d better go. They’ll be calling my flight soon.” Her voice sounded strained and Norm felt guilty for having added to the burden of what he was sure was going to be a difficult journey for her.

“Okay. It was good of you to call.” The least he could do was be honest.

“Thank you, Norman.”

“You take care of yourself Diane.”

Norm replaced the receiver and downed the rest of his beer before giving everyone the news.

“Hey, guys, Sammy’s coming back!”

*****

In the airport terminal Diane hung up the phone and sank onto one of the nearby benches. Her face was burning, but her hands felt clammy as she searched in her purse for a tissue. She was struggling to process Norm’s accidental revelation, disbelief clouding her mind. Surely Sam would have told her if he’d done something so drastic, so out of character?

She stood abruptly, propelled by the rising urge to run from the airport, throw herself into the nearest cab, and race back to Cheers. Immediately she felt foolish and remained rooted to the spot, a faint ringing in her ears. What would she even do if she did go back? Fling open the door, stride over the threshold and proclaim that his selling the bar meant that they were destined to be together forever?

No, both of them had known it hadn’t been right and they’d made a mature and sensible decision. Together. Sitting back down on the uncomfortable bench she laced her fingers together tightly, her nails digging sharply into the backs of her hands. It wouldn’t be fair.

Six years ago she had been so sure of herself; she was going to take six months to finish her novel, then she would return to Boston and they would be married. Her staying away for so long had never been part of the plan. If it had, she wasn’t sure that even the promise of publication could have tempted her to leave; she had been so ready to be married. But, as had been the case for much of her life, things hadn’t quite turned out as she’d expected. Initially she hadn’t wanted to go back to the bar draped in failure: the final proof that she was nothing more than a waitress with dreams beyond her capabilities. So she’d thrown herself into her work and success had finally called her name, but by then she’d been gone for far too long. She’d told herself that he’d have moved on. Easy come, easy go.

Now she felt sick, her stomach churning, as she realized how wrong she must have been. Cheers had been his whole life – she had known that. Even if he had come to LA with her she would never have expected him to let it go entirely. He’d have left Rebecca to manage it and of course there would have been the occasional trip back to Boston. Maybe one day they would have moved back for good.

In the moments many years ago when she’d allowed herself to picture their lives together the bar had always featured – an immutable fixture. She’d even imagined their children there sometimes: doing their homework at one of the tables – their legs dangling, not long enough to reach the floor – or else wreaking havoc, probably at Carla’s instigation. Sam would have been behind the bar, handsome and charming as ever; she would have been working on her writing and possibly serving the occasional drink before taking the children home for their dinner. They’d have been happy. She wiped roughly at the hot tears that had spilled onto her cheeks.

The thought that Sam would willingly give up the bar was untenable; he’d given everything to that place. It was a part of him in a way that she’d never quite understood and she knew that some days it was the only thing that had kept him going. And yet he had given it up. Something else had become more important. Something else had taken its place.

Suddenly Diane registered the voice cutting through the general clamor of the terminal. They were announcing the new flight. It was time. She knew that if she thought too much about it, she would stay sat on that bench forever, so she stood up, smoothed the front of her skirt and brushed her hair away from her face. Gripping the handles of her purse tightly she took an unsteady breath, blinked back the tears that still blurred her vision, and set off towards the new gate.

A queue had already formed of passengers eager to finally get on with their journeys, but it was slow-moving and the grumbles at having to wait blended into a drone in Diane’s ears. By the time she had nearly reached the front of the line it had ground to a halt. A woman was rummaging through her bags for a misplaced boarding pass, without success, and refusing to stand aside so that the rest of them might continue to board. Diane shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other.

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been happy together: on the whole, they had. In fact, some of the times they’d had together had been the happiest of her life. But this must be the right decision. So what if he’d sold the bar? That didn’t have to mean anything for them now, all these years later. They had really only been together as a couple for less than half the time she’d been at Cheers, and she’d been away for even longer than that. They must simply have been swept away on the high of discovering that something remained of their old connection. To take him back to LA – to get married – would have been impulsive, reckless even. She was a rational and intelligent woman; surely one night with an old flame couldn’t be enough for her to take such a momentous leap into the unknown? This had to be the right decision. So why did the ache in her chest make her want to collapse on the floor and weep?

The woman was now emptying the contents of one of her bags onto the desk, insisting over the protestations of the airline staff that her boarding pass was in there somewhere and that she just needed a minute more. Diane’s jaw clenched. The longer this was taking the more she could feel the tension creeping into her body. The terminal was hot. Noisy. She couldn’t seem to get enough air down into her lungs. Closing her eyes, she tried to pull her focus inwards and breathe steadily. In. Out. Once she was in the air it would be over. But before she’d really had a chance to implement any of her meditative practices her concentration was interrupted.

“What’s taking you-”

Startled by the voice so close to her, she spun round with such speed that it took the man standing behind her by surprise, forcing him to take a step back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he laughed, putting his hands up. “I didn’t mean to make you jump. I was just going to ask what’s taking you to the west coast, if we ever manage to get on this plane?” He was tall, with dark hair and an easy smile.

She realized that she was staring at him blankly, but her heart was racing. For a second there, the tiniest fraction of a second, she’d really thought… But no.

“You going on vacation?” he prompted.

“No, I’m…” she hesitated. What  _ was _ she doing? “Work,” she said stiffly. “I’m travelling for work.” She’d been about to say that she was going home, but that automatic response had felt so wrong that she couldn’t get it out. The very idea had stuck painfully in her throat. How could she possibly be going home, given what she was leaving behind?

She supposed that the man must have replied to her but she hadn’t heard a word he’d said. Now he was nodding pointedly at something over her shoulder. As she turned to look, she found herself at the head of the queue, being beckoned by the smiling woman behind the desk. She stepped forward.

The dance they’d been doing for so many years had flung them together and pulled them apart in turn. Maybe one day he would find his home and she would find hers. In the meantime, they’d each have to make do with surrogates: he, his bar and the people that filled it – she, her writing and the few friends she’d picked up along the way. Apart. This was simply the way of things. But only for now, she thought desperately, trying to ignore the heaviness in her heart as she handed over her boarding pass and walked towards the plane.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to Steph for her thoughts and encouragement!


End file.
